


Detours and Lemonade

by BlackWingBird



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Avengers on Vacation, Clint is sweet, Eventual Romance, F/M, Military Backstory, Military Working Dogs, Nightmares, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Small Towns, Swearing, just for fun
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-10
Updated: 2019-10-09
Packaged: 2020-11-28 18:56:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,198
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20971415
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlackWingBird/pseuds/BlackWingBird
Summary: While on a much needed break, Barton's bike breaks down in a small town and needs the help of a local woman.There's town drama, a girl and her dog.





	Detours and Lemonade

**Author's Note:**

> I write these just for fun and don't claim to be an expert on guns, PTSD, or mechanics. Always looking for suggestions!

The small town was the complete opposite of the hustling bustle that was New York. The air here was clear versus the smog of the city and the sounds of angry taxi drivers honking, sirens, people yelling, constant construction were blessedly absent. He traded it all in for damn near silence. The small town he found himself in had one main road and boasted of a single yellow flashing light at the intersection that was deemed busy enough to need it. People waved at each other, lifted their fingers off the steering wheel in a silent distant greeting to each other as they passed on the road. A few small shops lined the main street while a smattering of old farm trucks and cars parked in neat diagonal rows in front of them. 

Clint slowed his bike down as he approached the yellow light, looked, and then continued through the intersection before rolling his wrist and continuing onwards down the road while picking up a bit more speed. It didn’t take him very long to enter, ride through, and continue on out of the small laid back town and he was on his way down the highway again. Honestly it didn’t leave much of an impression on him as he’d seen dozens of small sleepy towns like this on his much needed down time from the Avengers. 

The town however apparently wasn’t going to let him go so fast as a few miles down the road his bike started to sputter, lurch, and finally quit. Looking down he confirmed he had plenty of gas and groaned as it rolled to a stop on the side of the road, standing he turned the key off and then back on and tried to start the bike again. Nothing. Murmuring under his breath, “No baby…c’mon, now?” he tried again and again to start the bike and was denied. 

Shit.

His boot kicked the stand out and he got off, pulling the helmet free and running a hand through his unruly short brown hair. He was on a long stretch of road that he suddenly remembered not seeing any other traffic. Looking back the way he had come he mentally calculated the town to be a few miles back. Standing, one hand on his hip, the other idly scratching through his hair as he squinted in both directions of the road he weighed his options, all those years of living in New York he was loathe to just leave his bike on the side of the road while he walked back to town. 

Reaching into his pocket he pulled out his cell phone and tried to turn it on. The screen refused to light up and he groaned realizing he’d forgotten to plug it in the last couple of days when he’d stopped for the night. 

Wonderful. 

Rubbing his hands over his denim covered thighs he turned back to his bike and knelt down to try and see if he could figure out the problem. Without tools he couldn’t do much other than look at the basics but suspected a blown gasket. Growling he stood up and checked his watch. It was summertime so the late afternoon had hours more of sunlight to go before it got dark but it was still swelteringly hot now without the airflow from his bike. He turned when the motor of a truck reached him. The old green truck approached and he turned to face it, watching as it slowed to a stop next to him while still in the middle of the lane idling. A German shepherd hopped up on the side of the truck from its spot in the back and growled at Clint low in its throat, causing him to take half a step back, eyes widening just a bit.

“Bucky, hey…knock it off,” a woman’s voice said from the open truck window and the dog immediately backed off and dropped back into the truck, ears alert and eyes glued to the stranger. 

Turning his attention to the passenger window he peered through to see a woman wearing dark sunglasses peering at him with a friendly smile. Her long brown hair was braided and reached to the bench seat she sat on. Suddenly he realized how much he really liked frayed cut offs that showcased long legs and t-shirts that fit a bit on the snug side of her curvy frame, giving him just a teasing glimpse of her tanned cleavage. After a moment he realized the woman had spoken to him, he was busted checking her out. 

“Huh, wha?” he snapped to attention asking again with a sheepish grin.

“I said you seem to either be having some problems with your ride or you found the worst place to take a leak Mister,” she teased him and he ducked his head with a grin.

“Yeah, I’m having some bike issues and no tools to fix it. Don’t suppose you have any in there?” he still stayed where he was rather than approach closer to the open window as he would have liked to have done to see the woman better, the dog was still eyeballing him. 

“I don’t. Well other than a screwdriver to use when the carb gets flooded,” She chewed on her lower lip a second and peered behind her in the rear view mirror then held up a finger. With a gentle nudge of the gas she nosed the truck up in front of his bike and turned it off. The dog moved to stand at the tailgate, always watching Clint as the driver got out. Clint watched as the woman walked back towards him and reached out to ruffle the dog’s fur before coming to stand next to him and held out her hand for him to shake it.

“Hi, I’m (y/n). You’ve met Buck there. He’s a little over protective at times but a heart of gold.”

“Clint, Clint Barton” he replied taking her soft hand in his and finding a bit of strength in the grip as they shook.

“Nice ta meet you Clint. Now like I said I don’t have any tools here with me but my place is just down the road. We can load up your bike and take it there if you like?” She said slipping her hands into the pockets of her cutoffs drawing his attention back down to her tanned legs. 

“You wouldn’t mind? I mean I was going to walk back to town and see if there was a tow truck or something…” Clint jerked his thumb back over his shoulder in the direction of the town and peered into her amber colored eyes as she slid the sunglasses to rest on the top of her head.

“I don’t mind a bit. And you’re not going to find the tow truck driver sober enough to trust with your bike,” She grinned and peered over at it, “I have some boards in the back that’ll work for a ramp if you feel like wrestling your bike up there.”  
Moving to the back she let the tailgate down let the dog jump out, “Nahe” she said to the dog and began to pull the boards out of the bed of the truck. Clint went to his bike rummaged in the side bag and came out with his own sunglasses to combat the brightness. Between the two of them they got the bike in the truck bed and were now on a dirt road heading to a farm house and a few out buildings. 

“Your husband fond of you picking up strays?” Clint asked casually as he bounced on the seat the truck wheel hitting a rock in the driveway.

“Mmmm smooth Barton,” She grinned, shooting Clint a sideways glance, “Nope, no Husband. No shotgun toting Daddy, and no chainsaw wielding maniacs either. Just me and Buck and the twins.” She finished before pulling the truck round to a shop looking building and killing the motor. 

“Twins huh?” He coughed a little to hide the faint tinge of chagrin he felt before chuckling. 

“Best mousers in the county,” She nodded and pointed to two cats lounging in the shade of the shop, one black and one white.

“Thought you said they were twins?” Clint asked as he slid out of the truck and shut the door, lifting his sunglasses to look at the cats. 

She let the truck door shut and wandered around the front of the truck to stand near Clint. Looking at him under the cover of her sunglasses she noticed the way his brow furrowed against ht light of the sun, the way his t-shirt clung to his well defined arms and seemed to fit him exceptionally well. Tilting her head she saw the saw the lean form of his body move with an understated grace, and an alertness that seemed second nature. She also picked up on the small form near the small of his back and knew it was a holster. She knew the kind. Her gun was in a holster special made for under the seat of the truck. 

“Came from the same momma, same litter,” she laughed a little and gave a gentle shrug of her shoulders before asking, “You military Clint?” She asked watching him turn towards her, face neutral and posture deceptively at ease. 

“More like private sector,” Clint said dismissively after a moment trying to feel out the subtle shift between them.

Neither one’s face gave anything away as the stood for a moment before that easy going smile slid over her lips and she turned towards the back of the truck, lifting the tailgate down and letting Buck free. The dog roamed but kept a watchful eye on the stranger. Clint wondered if he was going to wind up with a dog bite sometime in the future as he eyed the dog in return then moved to the back of the truck.

A short time later, the bike was in the shop and Y/n had gone into the house to fetch something cold for him to drink. Alone in the open shop the heat was oppressive. He pulled his t-shirt up over his head and removed the small holster and gun, sliding the later into an open side bag on his bike but still within easy grasp. Old habits die hard. 

Letting the screen door slam softly behind her, y/n came back out with two tall sweating glasses in her hands. Her beat up converse sneakers taking her quietly across the gravel driveway towards the shop. Even from here she could see him working shirtless and her stride slowed. She admired the way his jeans hung low on his hips. Even from here she could make out some scars and she bit her lower lip thinking they almost matched hers. She also noticed the firearm was gone but if he was also anything like her it was somewhere nearby. 

Getting up Clint wiped greasy hands on a rag he’d found on the bench then used a mostly clean part to wipe at the sweat on his forehead and the back of his neck while turning to face her, features lighting up at the sight of the tall glass.

“You’re a Goddess!” he exclaimed reaching out and taking the glass, pressing it to his flushed cheek and closed his eyes, enjoying the cold of the glass.

“Lemonade seemed cliché appropriate drink of choice,” She giggled watching him and sipping her own glass. 

“No complaints here. However I need a part and I doubt you have spares laying around?” He asked before watching her over the rim of the glass while taking a long drink, almost groaning in pleasure.

Y/n grinned, watching Clint’s theatrics before shaking her head, long braid dancing along her back with the motion, “Just parts for the beater there. But what we can do is head into town here in a bit, talk to Joe who runs the hardware/service station and see what he has on hand. Maybe grab some dinner at the bar? I didn’t take anything out for dinner and don’t feel like heating up the house to cook.”

“That sounds like a plan. I would love it if you let me treat you to dinner as a thank you for stopping and not rolling right on by,” Clint smiled at her. He was starting to enjoy the way her eyes crinkled slightly iat the corners as she smiled and wanted to make her do it more often. Taking another drink of the lemonade he watched as she nodded her consent. A small blessed breeze moved the fine hairs that had fallen free of her braid and carried her scent to him and he breathed in a mixture of clean laundry soap and a hint of something sweet like almonds. 

“It’s a deal. I’ll let you buy dinner, I might even have you spring for a drink on one condition,” she said turning and walking back towards the house, Bucky trotting over to heel on her left side as she called back over her shoulder, “Barton, you need a shower!”

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not military or a veteran but have friends and family that are.  
PTSD resources are valuable and there should absolutely be no stigma for needing them.  
www.ptsd.va.gov  
www.woundedwarriorproject.org  
www.dav.org


End file.
